Cigarettes

Time is passing by faster than my burning cigarette

I can feel it moving,

Almost like it’s a drop of sweat

Dripping down the back of my neck

It moves faster than my throbbing heart

And beats louder than my pulsing vein

Making me look like a pendulum on a mantel clock

Slow and only for show

It’s a hard pill to swallow

And even harder to follow

When time rips my agency out of my hand

Almost like it’s a wristband

That’s meant to be split in half

Its an agitating feeling

That clings on to you

Longer than the smell of smoke

And the taste of bourbon

It isn’t something

That can be stepped on

Or blown to the floor

To be turned off

It isn’t something tangible

that my fingers can repair

or my skin can even bare

it isn’t a pack of cigarettes

that I can just put away

or pray that it would stay on the tray

It comes in the form of ash and embers

That clashes on to my life

Like a knife

That is meant to rip my heart in half

Reminding of all the cigarettes I’ve burned through

And each situation I’ve outgrew